


Yearning for the moon

by gloatingraccoon



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Possession, Dream Sex, Dreams, Introspection, Love Triangles, Mad Scientists, Multi, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 09:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloatingraccoon/pseuds/gloatingraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murky period in Vol.11, while still repairing the Castle. On the verge of breaking down, Agatha realizes she cannot sleep alone and asks Gil and Tarvek to stay with her. It’s going to be quite a long night for the three of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a murky time period after Zola’s escape from Castle Heterodyne, while our favourite sparky trio is still busy with repairs. Given that this was imagined and plotted out some time ago, I took some liberties with some canon details, such as Violetta’s location (I’m assuming she was giving a hand to Theo’s team for some reason) and the time passing between Zola’s escape and the attack on Mechanicsburg, so this is now officially canon divergent.

Agatha took the occasion of the first moment of rest in hours to contemplate with a smile the fruits of the day’s work. Now it was late night, but it had been worth it: Castle Heterodyne finally started to resemble a place that could be lived in by people, instead of the nightmare of a sociopathic architect, and this was a huge step forward. And she had to admit that she actually liked this room that had kept her, Gil and Tarvek busy for hours, although she couldn’t quite make up her mind on what its original purpose had been, or on who had used it in the past – and she was wary of asking the Castle further details, given that this usually led to various anecdotes about her family that she’d rather not know.

The main lines of the Castle’s systems were all readily accessible, although cleverly disguised and protected by a series of secret compartments they had had to study and remove, and this had helped them considerably in restoring the castle’s full functionality at least in that area. The huge, sturdy carved wood table gave them plenty of room for working, laying out their equipment, studying the castle plans and make calculations. Two couches under the windows and a large, four-poster bed, the latter of which hadn’t probably seen much use in the past, given that it was still in a pretty good shape, could become much more comfortable options, in case they needed to get some rest, than sleeping in their bedrolls on the cold floor, all huddled together for warmth, like they had done lately. 

Not that Agatha minded to cuddle between the two boys: actually, she was sure she was going to miss that little, intimate ritual… the thought brought a wave of warmth up to her cheeks, and Agatha tried to shove it away, not wanting either of them to catch her blushing. Granted, at the moment the two seemed entirely too absorbed in studying the Castle’s plans for the next area waiting to be repaired they’d laid out on the table, but still, she really shouldn’t be thinking about that… what was important was that another section of the Castle was fully repaired and working, and they’d even found a room that could serve as a functional, comfortable base for operations. Also, said room did not contain tapestries with naked demon women, ambiguously-shaped inlays or paintings that tried to eat people, which was even better. Of course, the gaslamp holders on the walls were shaped like saber-toothed humanoid skulls, but considering what they’d seen over the last few days, now this just looked like a little touch of exotic decor to her.

Now that she could afford a moment of peace, she sat on the bed to take off her shoes, that had started to hurt, and rub down her aching muscles, while the boys still chattered to each other, concentrating on their work. She felt a smile dawning on her lips. At least as long as they were busy, Gil and Tarvek managed to keep friction to a minimum, and on the contrary, she had to admit they worked really well together. And this was no small help for her mood.

She stretched, thinking that all she wanted to do was sleeping for at least a week, maybe in that same bed since it seemed so comfortable – and in the movement she caught sight of a flash of white on the ceiling above the bed, that she hadn’t noticed before. Curious, she shifted to the center of the bed, lying down completely, to get a better look, and what she saw took her breath away.

Above her, above the bed, shone the full moon. Huge, glistening white, perfect, barely stained by the tail of a passing cloud. That room had a big, round window in the ceiling above the bed, probably a domed window that also worked as a lens because she was pretty sure that the moon she normally could see in the sky was not really that large. And the full moon in that moment was right there, perfectly aligned with the opening in the ceiling. Of course the window’s glass was dirty, but the strong downpours of the previous days had washed away enough for her to appreciate the sight. It was one of the most beautiful things Agatha had ever seen.

“Agatha, are you alright?”

Gil’s voice interrupted her train of thought. They had likely just noticed she had lain down. 

“I’m fine,” she replied, lifting an arm to motion the two boys to get near. “Come here, you two. I’m going to show you something.”

She noticed the boys had exchanged a perplexed stare before joining her. 

“Um… it’s not another of those paintings, or another mirror, I hope,” Tarvek said, and Agatha noticed his sudden blush. She flushed as well and nervously cleared up her throat. 

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic in that case, don’t you think?” she replied. Even someone as naive as her knew that there was only a reason to hang a mirror above a double bed. Or yet another tantalizing painting with naked demons. “No, this is much better. And please take off your shoes, the both of you. If you don’t come here near me you can’t see it.”

She must have gotten them curious enough, because the two quickly kicked off their boots and lay down next to her, Gil to her right, Tarvek to her left. When they followed her gaze, the only sound was a hushed “oh” from Gil. 

“Castle, turn off the lamps, please,” Agatha said.

_[Of course, mistress. And I have to say that you have my complete approval.]_

Agatha frowned. Approval? Approval for what? Part of her brain recorded the fact that the Castle probably was trying to hint at something or was amusing itself at her expense, as usual, but the idea escaped her quickly when the lights went out, throwing the three of them in a surreal, silvery twilight. The moon looked even bigger and brighter now, and the little swarm of stars around it was more clearly observable. Taking a look around her, she noticed the boys’ entranced stares, and she smiled, folding her arms under her head. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, speaking in a low voice without really knowing why. “This room gets better and better. Maybe, when all the rest has been taken care of… maybe we can think about putting skylights like this even in the other bedrooms. Apart from those facing north, of course.”

She only realized late, in the brief silence that followed, that she’d spontaneously talked in the plural.

“We’re going to have to add curtains above the beds too, though,” Tarvek said, “or the light will keep everyone awake. And actually, we could do this in the rooms facing north as well, if we use a mirror instead of a lens.” 

“Good idea,” Gil snapped his fingers, and Agatha felt the enthusiasm rising in his voice as well as in her heartbeat, “and why not put the two together? The mirror in a transparent gap that magnifies the reflected image…” 

“Oh, and a system of tracks and bearings so it all can be rotated!” Agatha said, her fingertips tingling. “That way not only we can see the moon from the rooms facing north, we can even follow it in the sky.” 

“What if we think bigger?” Tarvek said, and Agatha recognized the shine in his eyes in the twilight. “Let’s think about eclipses! In a room we can treat the glass like a welding screen: of course we’d have to assess how the lens’ behaviour would change, but then we could watch an eclipse with no hazard and no goggles!”

“And I’ll tell you more!” Gil chuckled. “Tarvek, remember Professor Arcier’s photography demonstration?” Tarvek nodded enthusiastically and Agatha gave Gil a curious glance to incite him to explain.

More than a hour later, the moon had moved and disappeared from the window, and Agatha’s throat ached with all the talking. The initial idea of modifying a skylight had turned into a project of extension of the main library, with the building of Europa’s largest telescope, capture of images through the wet plate collodion process Gil and Tarvek had seen in Paris, and the at least theoretical possibility to use the telescope from everywhere in the Castle through a network of adjustable mirrors. Complete with one-way screens and several safety measures so that the whole system couldn’t be exploited backwards to peek into the single rooms – something that the Castle probably would consider an essential architectural improvement, but left them much less than enthusiastic. Oh, and naturally a network of brushes for automated cleaning of the glass surfaces exposed to the elements.

Pure genius.

Madness pulsed between Agatha’s ears and under her fingers like a warm tingle, drawing hypotheses, concepts and intuitions in crisp, bright details both in her mind and in her words. Some part of her wanted to get up, take paper and pencil and start taking notes for the project together, but now she was just too tired to move, and judging from the fact that neither man had moved yet, she wasn’t the only one. Under the weight of exhaustion, the piercing clarity of Madness faded until a soft silence fell upon them, barely interrupted by the nighttime calls of the owls outside, while they lay there looking at the pincushion of stars in the sky. Agatha realized that she was smiling, without really knowing why. It wasn’t for the stars, for the moon, for the skylight and for all they had invented over the past hour. It was something else. It was that silence, that hanging peace in which there was no need to speak, the tingle of joy and exhaustion melted together. It was that warmth surrounding her, the warmth of the two bodies next to her, their arms barely touching, the rhythm of their breathing, the soft, barely audible rustling of Tarvek playing with his hair, Gil nibbling the skin around his thumb nail. The warmth inside of her. It was the three of them, just like that, free to be exactly what they were. 

Agatha’s breath caught up in her throat. This was perfect. This was how it should be. Even if no part of this could ever be real. For how much longer could she keep on pretending this wasn’t true, for how much longer could she keep on playing at just being Agatha, instead of the new Heterodyne? How much room had she left before her inevitable breaking point? 

Before everything crumbled to pieces?

She took a deep breath, as if clinging on to air itself. 

“I wish it were always like this.”

Her voice left her throat like a barely audible whisper. But she knew they’d heard, because she felt them both shift beside her, maybe giving her confused glances, even if she refused to turn to face either of them.

“Like this… like we are right now,” she added with a shrug. “Just Agatha, Gil and Tarvek. Without… all the rest. Without the burden of… of names, generations and centuries that we didn’t choose. Without always having to hold off each other, without fear, without masks, without…” 

Her voice suddenly choked in her throat with a start that sounded like dry leaves, her vision clouded and the sharp stab of pain in her chest clearly warned her that no, stop, stop right now, enough. She had no more room, no air, nothing left. 

She was breaking down. 

“Agatha…” Gil shyly brushed her shoulder, and instinctively she sprang to sit up, as if all she wanted were to run away even from that kind touch, to say no, stop, enough, enough now. She didn’t want to break down in front of them: she had to be the strong, big bad Heterodyne, and she already had a lot to worry about without getting lost in thoughts of yearning for something she couldn’t have and wasn’t even sure she understood. But she knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t run away, and she wouldn’t say no, because the reason why she had spoken in the first place was that she needed this. She needed them. 

She felt the bed shift again as the boys sat up next to her. Gil put an arm around her shoulders, Tarvek to her left lightly caressed her head, and she stopped holding back the tears, sliding her shaking arms around their shoulders to pull them both close, in a wobbly, uncomfortable embrace that was returned after a moment of hesitation. All of her body answered their closeness with a shiver of piercing, numbing, reassuring warmth, conceding her a last fragment of the previous peace through the familiarity of those sensations – their scent, that smell of burnt oil and exhaustion, Gil’s breath caressing her neck, his strong arms, Tarvek’s fingers running through her hair, the clear feeling of his body next to her, both nimble and tough, different from Gil’s massive build, but not less attractive for her, whether she liked to admit it or not. The body knows all, Zeetha had told her once. And even through her anguish and fear, all of her body, the warmth pooling around her face and down in her belly, quickening her heartbeat, every single cell of her body was screaming its approval at her while she stayed there cuddled between the two of them.

There it was. Approval. Suddenly she realized what the Castle was hinting at with that word. Apparently it thought it was funny, that huge son of a brick. Or maybe it was entirely serious, which was even more worrying. That artificial brain really needed a meeting with a cocktail of antipsychotics, or simply with a jackhammer, depending on the circumstance. 

“Hey… come on, now,” Gil whispered at her ear, seeding goose bumps down her neck. “Calm down.”

“He’s right, Agatha,” Tarvek said, his hands trying in vain to bring down the rebel tuft of hair on the back of her head. “You’ll see… everything’s going to be alright.”

Agatha choked a sour laugh between her tears. Calm down, said her main human shield against the Baron’s carpet bombing. Everything’s going to be alright, said the figurehead of the Storm King conspiracy. Of course. It was all going to be sugar, hearts and flowers. 

“It’s going to be alright… what?” she said as her tears died down. “Damn nothing is going to be alright, and you know it. You both know it. And sure enough you are two damned idiots. And I’m even more of an idiot than you because I still haven’t stopped keeping up with you. I should…”

The words crumpled in her throat again, her tears now dry. I should. She should what? Tell them to go to hell? Send them out with a pulley, an idea which both the Castle and Krosp probably would have had a great time putting into practice? Even besides the delicate power balance that had arisen with the Baron, and the fact that Tarvek was precisely the type of person she couldn’t afford to let out of her sight – she couldn’t forget that those same huge idiots now were part of her life, whether she liked it or not. Before being young Wulfenbach and Prince Sturmvoraus, to her they were Gil and Tarvek. Her men. They’d even joked about it, when they’d found the Castle seraglio. And the thing that hurt her the most was that she perfectly knew that right now there was too much going on, too many important things depending on her, for her to afford the luxury of letting her guard down, of stopping, of taking a honest look inside herself to give her feelings the name they deserved and in the end, make a decision. She couldn’t afford to just decide for herself, to just be a woman, to just be Agatha – but she couldn’t give up on them either. So in the meanwhile every day would keep on feeling just like a fall on broken glass for each one of them. She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I’m putting you two in a situation that… I mean, this just isn’t right.” 

Gil strengthened his hold around them, heaving a sigh. 

“You’re sorry about something you didn’t actually decide? Agatha, you know perfectly well that we both have chosen to come into the Castle.”

“True,” Tarvek said, trying to move her ruffled hair away from her face. Agatha hung her head, feeling his eyes upon her. The skin of her face seemed to tingle under his touch. “Agatha, I’d rather say that the fault is ours. And that it’s the two of us that are putting you in a tight spot.”

Agatha slowly shook her head, frowning. 

“But I didn’t send you away. I chose to do nothing, because I’m confused, because I’m terrified… because I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what I want, I just know that… that I don’t want to lose you, that I need the two of you to face what’s coming.” She smiled despite herself, moving her clouded stare from Gil’s eyes, concerned, to Tarvek’s, adoring. “See? A small piece of fault for each one, like three good little siblings.” 

“Agatha, don’t joke on this.” Gil smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t feeling confused or shaken in this situation… and you’re right, we don’t have much to be calm about. But we are here to help you, and you know. Whatever it is that’s coming, we’re going to face it together, be sure about it. Tell her, Tarvek.” 

“Of course, my lady,” Tarvek said, squeezing the hand she hugged him with. Agatha’s heart gave a jump at that form of address he used from time to time. Violetta was right: Tarvek perfectly knew what he was doing with sweet talk, and might he go straight to hell with his devoted knight manners that worked so well in tearing down her defenses. “It’s true that putting up with each other is not always easy, but if you say that you need us, then we’ll be at your side. Just think of what the three of us have achieved until today…”

Agatha had to try a couple of times before she could speak, and her voice resembled a thin hiss. 

“It’s true. But I wasn’t just talking about… the Castle, about everything that’s happening.” She swallowed. “I was talking about… us. The three of us. About what we are.”

The silence that followed, a silence of baited breath, of contact and quickening heartbeats, was clearer than a thousand words. Gil heaved a sigh, laying his head against hers. 

“I know you were,” he whispered, his breath warm against her face. “I think we all do.”

Tarvek huddled tighter next to her, and a lock of soft hair caressed her cheek bone. How he could keep that hair in almost a better shape than hers in that horrible place was still a mystery. Knowing him, there was a deal with the devil or something. 

“And the answer is the same,” Tarvek said. “We are here for you, Agatha.”

“Whatever will happen… and whatever you will decide, when the moment comes,” Gil whispered, his lips brushing her ear for a moment, a fleeting contact that was more than enough to send her heart flying. 

Gently, Gil wiped out her dried tears from her face, and for a moment, in the timid intimacy of those touches, Agatha felt the sudden desire to kiss him, like an essential, visceral need. She barely had to turn her face to taste his lips. Of course, she could never really do it, not right there and in that moment, in that absurd situation, with an arm around Tarvek’s shoulders and his hair brushing her face. But she still remembered quite well that crazy day in which she and Gil had fought against the wasps, on Castle Wulfenbach, even if it looked like a whole lifetime had passed. She remembered how she’d grabbed him by his jacket and she’d just kissed him, without hesitations, without wondering why or what he was going to think of her, simply because kissing him was the only thing that remotely made sense in that moment. She remembered his smell of fear and exhaustion, so similar to how he smelled that night, the touch of his lips at first uncertain and surprised, then quickly turning softer and welcoming. She also remembered his sullen face, so similar to his father’s, and the argument that had followed, of course – just as she still remembered perfectly that night in Sturmhalten, the feeling of Tarvek’s arms around her, his chest against her back, his voice brushing her neck, and his darkened eyes evading her as he betrayed her. So many things had changed in time, and despite that twisted, essential bond that now joined the three of them, she perfectly knew she couldn’t completely trust either of her men. But Gil still reminded her of a time when she was just Agatha, and not the new Heterodyne, a time that would never come back, no matter how much she missed it. And it still hurt.

“You’re shaking,” Gil said, holding one of her wrists to check her pulse. “Sleep for a while, it’s clear that you’re going to flake out.” 

“We’ll take the couches and leave the bed to you,” Tarvek said, “so you’ll actually get to sleep comfortably for once.” 

Agatha cleared up her throat as they hesitantly loosened their embrace, yet still not daring to part with each other completely. Sleeping on her own in that bed was certainly much more comfortable than huddling with the other two in their bedrolls – but that was not really the point. She had to take a deep breath to build up her courage before she could say what she had thought.

“Want to stay here with me?”

She felt them both stiffen, and she noticed that they’d exchanged a glance that she couldn’t read in the twilight. But they were surely wondering if they’d heard right. Agatha curled up into a ball between them, gathering her knees to her chest. 

“This is a good bed indeed, but the sheets are going to be cold and we still don’t have a working heating system. It’ll be… like the other times, just much more comfortable than in the bedrolls.” Which was true in theory. But it wasn’t all of it. She shook her head, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry, but… I don’t think I could really sleep alone. Not tonight, at least.”

She just needed to be with them, that was the truth – she needed their ritual, the warmth and comfort of their closeness, to finally let go and have a real rest. And she hoped that she’d managed at least in part to show them how much this was important to her.

Gil was the first to react, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Oh… well, of course, Agatha. Don’t worry. Sturmvoraus?”

Tarvek nodded after just a moment of hesitation.

“No issue for me.”

They made themselves comfortable before sleeping: Agatha unbuttoned and took off the bodice she wore over her shirt, and she loosened a bit the laces of her corset, while the boys took off their shirts; Tarvek undid his ponytail, and his pince-nez were put together with Agatha’s glasses on the bed’s headboard. The three then slid under the covers, that were indeed very cold as Agatha guessed. They huddled together for warmth, Agatha in the center, each of the boys with an arm around her waist. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she listened to her heart finding peace again, the shivers running under her skin gradually calming down in the warmth of their embrace, of their contact, so close, so clear and so delightful now that less layers of clothing separated them. Her fingertips still tingled faintly, and she wrapped them on the arms around her waist, lightly caressing them both without really thinking of what she was doing, getting quickly lost in the sensation of skin against skin, and warm shivers, and strong arms under sparse hairs. The warmth of Gil’s breath on her neck, the light caress of Tarvek’s fingers on her head, through her hair, were the last things she felt before she finally surrendered to her weariness and lost her grip on reality.

And her last thought was “thanks”. 


	2. Tarvek's night

In their embrace, Agatha fell asleep almost right away, her breath deep and barely audible. Tarvek slowed down the movements of his fingers through her hair, not wanting to disturb her sleep, but even in the twilight, in the almost complete silence, he perfectly knew that Gil was not sleeping, exactly like him. And he had the strong impression that neither of them, in that absurd situation, would sleep easily. On one hand he envied Agatha’s situation, since at least she was getting some sleep. And on the other, he knew there was nothing at all to envy her about. 

He tried to shove those thoughts away, knowing that things for the three of them were already complicated enough without him starting to philosophize. He settled next to Agatha, looking for a more comfortable position, and in that movement, he involuntarily met Gil’s gaze. Only then he became aware of how he was looking at him, of how he probably had been looking at him all the time, while he was concentrating on Agatha’s hair – that by the way still smelled adorably, although he couldn’t deny that each of them really needed a good bath. His breath faltered for a moment. 

He knew that stare, he knew the intensity of those eyes that seemed to pierce through bones with no need to blink. He had already seen those eyes a long time before, on the face of his childhood friend that had betrayed him on Castle Wulfenbach and had sent him back home, back to the last place on earth he wanted to be. But now so many things had changed. That reckless, always bare-footed kid had become a young man, had become Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, the heir of the empire he still hadn’t given up on breaking down. In those darkened eyes there was no more just a focused, burning anger. Now there was something more, something that the kids they had been wouldn’t have understood, and Tarvek realized easily what that meant, because under that stare for a moment he felt the instinct of drawing Agatha closer to him, as if to protect her. Jealousy, competition. Desire against mistrust. Maybe obsession. Maybe love. 

They just kept going back there. Back to the number three, to what they were, to that bond that joined them and separated them at the same time. Tarvek swallowed, not taking his eyes away from his rival. When Gil spoke, it was a barely audible whisper.

“I do not trust you, Sturmvoraus,” he said. And this was not precisely a huge surprise. “I don’t know what you’re up to, and I have no idea what she sees in you. But put it in your head that you’re still here, and you’re still whole, only for her. If you try to take advantage of this for your stupid little schemes, you’ll have to deal with me.”

Tarvek frowned.

“Don’t treat her like an idiot, she can take care of herself,” he replied, still whispering. After all, not even Agatha trusted him. Unfortunately – and thankfully. “She doesn’t need a high and mighty Wulfenbach to protect her.”

Gil’s free hand clenched into a fist over the pillow. Oh yes. Hit and sunk. Now that was a weak spot. 

“I know she can take care of herself. That’s not the point. The point is that it’ll be up to her to decide – on her future, on her life, on everything. And if you hurt her, you can be sure that I’m going to make you pay for it.” 

Tarvek nodded, his gaze still locked with Gil’s. 

“I agree. She’ll have to be the one to decide. She’ll have to be free. She doesn’t need anybody to come take her away and lock her up in a lab.” He sneered seeing Gil’s eyes opening wide, somewhere between shocked and outraged at that very idea, his lips parting as if to retort something, but giving up in a moment. Another nerve hit. Good to know. “She doesn’t trust either of us, Wulfenbach, and with good reason, don’t you forget it. So, the same applies to me. If you hurt her, it’ll be up to me to make you pay. Agreed?” 

After what looked like a neverending pause, Gil nodded.

“Agreed.” Gil finally moved his stare away from him, heaving a sigh, and seemed to relax, settling next to Agatha. “Now let’s try to get some sleep.” Gil shot him a last glare, that quickly changed to an odd embarrassment. “And you… don’t get any funny ideas.”

Tarvek flushed and avoided Gil’s stare, pretending to adjust the pillow under his head.

“I don’t really know what you’re talking about.” 

He huddled tighter next to Agatha, and despite his weariness, his stare spontaneously went plunging right down into her shirt’s neckline, where the last long suffering button had undone, letting him make out the soft curves of her chest rising and falling with her breathing. He knew perfectly well what kind of funny ideas Gil was talking about. He closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly, given that his body started to feel a little too much awake for the circumstances. His fingers tingled, his heart beat hard, the old sheets around them felt cold and slightly damp and she seemed so warm and comforting in comparison. He would want to hug her, cradle her while she slept, enjoy a little of that warmth and that good smell that still caressed his nostrils. In a sense he was already hugging her, since he still had an arm around her waist, but there was also Gil’s arm in the same position. And anyway, although they were intimate enough to sleep close to each other, he wasn’t quite sure that even if they’d been alone Agatha would’ve appreciated that he took certain liberties. Actually, he wasn’t quite sure about what Agatha thought in general, and even less after that night. After that absurd idea of sleeping right there, in that bed, all three of them. What kind of idea was that, after all? Such a terrible, terrible idea. Of course, in theory it was just like the other times, like sleeping close in their bedrolls for warmth. Sure… in theory. Even if he didn’t really have much to complain about. If the thought of sleeping with her in a double bed without being a married couple, and not even a couple in general for that matter, and moreover in the presence of his rival, really embarrassed him that much, he could’ve given it a second thought instead of falling for it. He could’ve said “no thanks, I usually sleep better in less ambiguous situations”. Not that his life as a whole wasn’t a huge ambiguous situation in itself, but this was not the kind of ambiguity he was used to. He had lost his innocence regarding intrigues and political games a long time before, but like unfortunately Lucrezia had guessed quite soon, sexually speaking he was still quite green. But he’d said yes, because Agatha had asked him, because he’d seen her vulnerable, shocked, paralyzed, and instead he wanted to see her always just like she was a few moments before, when they lay there looking at the moon, always happy and entranced, always Agatha. For each day of his life. How could he have said no?

Finally his heart and his aching muscles called for a truce, and Tarvek relaxed completely against her, sinking in the smell of her hair. Agatha smelled oddly like ash and spices, and naturally, like her sweat. Part of his brain wondered how he could like that smell so much, but the rest frankly couldn’t care less. That was simply her smell and this was more than enough for him to love it. And for a moment, when he almost felt that he was shifting away from reality, he thought that this was perfect – too perfect. It was with that smell, with that woman in his arms that he wanted to fall asleep. For each day of his life. 

Suddenly he felt like something was changing, shifting, something like a shiver under his fingertips, and he had the impression that Agatha was moving between them in her sleep. Without opening his eyes, he shifted slightly to let her settle, but the light touch of delicate, shaking hands on his face surprised him. 

He opened his eyes, and he saw Agatha lying next to him, smiling at him, caressing his face. Surprised, his heartbeat suddenly quickening, he tentatively smiled back at her. He could see her perfectly, as if the gaslamps had been turned back on. He saw the blonde and gingery shine of her hair, her bright green eyes, the milky, delicate tone of her skin, her rosy, round mouth like a flower bud. Agatha wasn’t wearing that old, dirty shirt and her work trousers, but a corset of golden and scarlet lace, and a flimsy, white cotton petticoat that didn’t reach her knees. Neither of these things did much to cover her generous curves, and Tarvek felt a rush of blood to his head, not really knowing where to cast his glance. Behind her, Gil wasn’t there. And he couldn’t even see the couch where they had put their clothes. Now that he noticed, the room they were in was much cleaner and better furnished than what he remembered, and it reminded him much more of his room back in Sturmhalten than Castle Heterodyne. Sturmhalten? When had he come back home?

A tiny part of his brain took a moment to warn him that whatever was happening, no matter how it felt real, actually made no sense at all. Just a moment. Because the last, weak semblance of logic and reasoning was swept away in a rush of fire when Agatha sank her fingers in his hair to draw him close, and their lips met.

Red.

Fire.

Yes.

Tarvek had the odd impression that his heart was in the wrong place, like stuck inside his head, between his ears, or maybe somewhere else entirely, down between their bodies pressed together, he didn’t really understand but it was beating so hard that he felt like it was about to explode, like he was about to go insane, like he was about to die. He returned the kiss without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her, sinking in the welcoming warmth of her mouth, her sweet, electrifying taste like apples and cinnamon. He was kissing her, sweet lightning, he was kissing her and she had taken the initiative, she had asked him – she really trusted him now and this consciousness made him lose his head. Her delicate hands moved to caress him as they kissed, sliding over his chest and abdomen, and then up and down his back, and only then he realized he was completely naked, but surprisingly he also realized that he didn’t feel the slightest embarrassment or shame of his body in front of her, although he had no way to hide his current state of arousal. There was nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to hide, all masks and barriers had fallen down. They were simply a man and a woman now. Gently, she laced her arms around his shoulders to draw him upon her and he let her guide him, shivering at the clear contact of her body under him, in every detail, in every tantalizing curve, and the shiver grew stronger as he heard her muffle a delighted moan inside their kiss. God, how many times he’d thought, imagined, dreamt of having her right there in his arms, of making her thrill and shake and moan that way… he needed more. He left her adorable, enticing mouth to trail kisses down her neck, and wanting to return her caresses, he tentatively ran his hands over the tender curve of her breasts, still laced by the corset, and down upon her legs. He swallowed, delighting in her shivers, and slowly slid his hands up under the petticoat to finally cup her wonderful, round hips, wondering what she felt, what she liked, what he could do to make her feel just as happy and loved and all kinds of crazy as she was doing with him. She sighed and gently slid her legs apart and up, wrapping them around his waist, like an invitation, and suddenly it was Tarvek’s turn to shake and moan. He knew perfectly well he wasn’t going to resist for much longer, and he stopped seeding kisses on her neck, pulling slightly away from her.

“No, wait,” he whispered, fighting against all of his instincts that were begging him to just yield and finally discover what it felt like, discover what was that secret hidden inside of her that she was offering him with such sweetness. She gave him a puzzled, surprised stare from her languid green eyes, that seemed all the more shining now in her flushed face, her breath clearly uneven.

“You don’t want?” she asked him. He shook his head, smiling at her to reassure her.

“Not like this,” he replied, and he shifted to lie on his back beside her. “Come here now, I want to look at you.”

He drew her close and she crouched over him, giving him a new, different smile, a little surprised and a little amused and a little hungry at the same time, a smile that was more than enough to strengthen the shivers down his spine. 

“Why?” she asked him, huddling tighter next to him, the inviting warmth of her lap against his belly. Tarvek licked his dry lips, trying to find the words for a sensation he wasn’t even sure he understood completely.

“Because you deserve someone that is always at your feet, my lady,” he said, and he saw her swallow, her eyes watering. Agatha leaned to kiss him tenderly, caressing his face.

“You are my lord… my Storm King,” she whispered, and he smiled at her, flushing. He had never guessed before that hearing her say it would have this effect on him.

“I am anything you want me to be… tell me what you want,” he said, kissing her again.

“Make love to me,” she whispered on his lips. At her words Tarvek swallowed hard, and sank his hands in her hair to work on the hooks that closed the corset around her body. He wanted to touch her, to discover her weak spots before making love, but he was already very much aroused and he was afraid he wasn’t going to be good for long, and on the other hand he didn’t want his inexperienced caresses to end up annoying her instead of pleasing her. But she guided him gently, and when finally he managed to get her free of the corset, she drew his hands over her breasts, soft and heavy. And watching her shiver delightfully to his touch, drawing her close again for another kiss, Tarvek thought once more of how she was wonderful. She was perfect.

She was too perfect. 

Was there something he had to remember about those words?

In that very moment reality shattered the bubble of illusion, and Tarvek woke up with a start, in a sweat and with his heart that seemed to try to tear down his chest, his lips still reaching for a kiss that didn’t exist. The fog that wrapped his senses and the queasiness of the abrupt awakening gradually melted away, bringing him back to the real world again. Back in the dead of the night, in that room in Castle Heterodyne, under those old, cold sheets, now barely warmed up by their bodies, huddled next to Agatha that was still sleeping soundly, now showing her back to him and huddled in turn next to Gil, that was snoring as usual. The bitterness in his throat almost hurt.

All just a dream. No matter how it had seemed real, up to the point that waking up he’d had the absurd impression of a kiss vanishing upon his lips – he’d just had an erotic dream. And a really cruel one at that. Absolutely nothing had actually happened, aside from the fact that he was still aroused, of course, just to make things funnier.

He heaved a silent sigh. Now, of course, who was going to sleep anymore? He got up from the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible, and he reached the small bathroom adjoining the room. A basin of cold water was just what he needed.

Naturally, there was a much simpler way to find release, that same way that he’d learnt during puberty just like everyone else, with or without the company of interesting reads such as “In the seraglio of the Iron Sheik” – now that was a book that had marked a whole generation. But that would just be depressing, and his mood was already low enough. And in the end, those were things you just didn’t do in someone else’s house, especially not when the house in question was a sentient, unstable Castle that already had a nasty tendency to snarky remarks and not minding its own business without being offered obvious pretexts. And especially not with the woman of his life sleeping in the next room.

Agatha would never trust him up to that point, this was the truth. That had been a dream, and was going to remain such. Nothing more. 

Unfortunately, and thankfully. 

With a good load of cold water, and carefully concentrating on things like the neverending, ridiculous meetings with the Knights of Jove, and holiday lunches with Violetta’s family – memories that would kill off even the libido of a Jager – he managed to solve the issue, and he took the occasion for a long drink of water. Considering he’d woken up in a sweat, he was not surprised to feel so thirsty.

He went back to the other room and sat at the end of the bed, taking a moment to look at the two bodies lying between the covers in the silvery twilight. Gil had thankfully stopped snoring, and Agatha had curled up against his chest, her long, ruffled blonde hair almost shimmering. 

Tarvek swallowed at the bitterness coming back in his throat. They looked so peaceful in that silent truce, so peaceful and close, as if their bodies had been created to just melt together. They looked so perfect, the woman he loved and his rival. So cruelly, twistedly perfect.

Maybe this was really how it was meant to be. Sure, Agatha couldn’t really trust either of them at the moment, and Gil had hardly been a saint with her in the past, but he cared about Agatha, and as much as Tarvek didn’t like to admit it, he was a much better man than the womanizing idiot he’d seen in Paris. And it was hard not to notice how she cared about him in turn. Tarvek did his best every day to show her how much he cared about her as well – but once she’d be ready to make her choice, why should she take her chances with a sneaky, conniving Sturmvoraus, of all people? Maybe this was how it was going to end. Maybe three people were really a crowd, even right now. 

Maybe he should just leave. 

In that moment Agatha turned under the covers, stirring, and Tarvek froze, not wanting to wake her up. But when he saw her lift slightly, looking puzzled, probably without making out much in the twilight and without her glasses, he realized she had already woken up. 

“Tarvek?” she whispered.

Maybe he should just leave.

But not like this. It would be up to her to decide. 

“I’m here,” he replied in a whisper, sliding back beside her, under the covers. “I was thirsty.”

Agatha muttered in assent, and huddled next to him, wrapping an arm around his neck to sink her fingers in his hair. If Tarvek had been a cat, he’d have purred. 

“I thought you were leaving,” she murmured in a sleepy voice.

Tarvek swallowed, and tentatively caressed her head.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he whispered. “Sleep now.” 

Agatha mumbled something incoherent, relaxing against his body, the movements of her fingers through his hair gradually slowing down until they stopped. She’d already fallen back asleep. Tarvek closed his eyes and tried to relax under the burden of weariness, half hoping and half fearing to dream again of that woman so close and yet so far away. 


	3. Gil's night

“I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

Gil rolled his eyes and curled up tighter next to Agatha, as Tarvek clearly pretended adjusting his pillow before doing the same. Sure, he had no clue, the poor, innocent little boy. No funny ideas. The toad almost sounded convincing.

Too bad that their relative position in the embrace and a last button that refused to cooperate offered a rather… distracting view of Agatha’s cleavage and beyond. Not that either of them hadn’t seen that already, and more than a few times. Not that both of them hadn’t seen even more than that, when Zola had stabbed her right in the chest. But seeing it so close, watching it rise and fall at her deep breathing… there was something hypnotic about it, and even in the twilight, Gil was quite sure he wasn’t the only one enjoying the view. He wanted to shoot Tarvek another glare, but it would be like admitting he was leering too. He wanted to slap him, but this was no news.

Gil swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the main source of distraction and get some rest. He didn’t want to wake Agatha up in any case. She was clearly fried up, and waking up to find her two… what to call them? Colleagues? Experimental subjects? Sleep buddies? Suitors? However she thought of them, waking up and finding them fighting once more was probably going to result in the two culprits being kicked out from the room and back to the bedroll-on-the-cold-floor solution. Which wasn’t nearly as fun if she wasn’t there, just like then. Snuggled right next to him, and so warm, and soft under what little clothing still separated them. And smelling so good, the kind of smell that made him wonder how she must taste… and remember how it had felt to kiss her, on that far away day on Castle Wulfenbach.

Gil finally relaxed against her as the warmth and comfort of memories washed over him. First her hands grabbing him by his jacket, then a flash of blonde hair and the next thing he knew, he was holding her tight in his arms and they were kissing. And it was not one of those fake, theatrical kisses you saw at the opera where the singers’ lips barely touched. They were kissing for real, with lips and mouth and tongue and teeth even, hearts pounding, breaths quickening, hands gripping and tangling through hair. That had been wonderful, even if it hadn’t lasted long, even rushed as it was. Would Agatha kiss him back if he tried, or just slap him? She had kissed him another time after all, before the Si Vales Valeo, although just as a little peck of good luck, and they had almost kissed upon meeting once more in the Castle. Agatha did care about him, but she cared about both men currently sharing that bed with her. Would she ever trust him? And most of all… what did she want?

Distantly he heard Agatha mumble something incoherent in her sleep. Shortly after, Tarvek added something equally nonsensical in a sleepy voice. That was an odd little thing the two had in common, and it almost looked like they answered each other sometimes, mostly saying gibberish of course, but still. Not really surprising, considering that Lucrezia had likely engineered the birth of both. Custom made for each other by the ultimate criminal mastermind. Optimized genetics did not rule out free will, of course, but the thought made him queasy all the same. He tried to shove it away, but he heard her voice again, and this time the sound was clearer and closer, as if… had he heard right? Was she talking to him?

“Gil.”

Puzzled, he opened his eyes and lifted slightly to look at her, and was surprised to see her so clearly in the silvery twilight, lying beside him, smiling at him, the locket around her neck twinkling dimly. He was even more surprised to realize they were alone now. Odd. He’d have noticed if Tarvek had got up for some reason. Surprise quickly turned into his heart pounding loud, and his body gladly took the occasion to remind him that his blood circulation worked quite well under the belt, too, as she slid her arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him, and he felt her soft, silky skin brush his.

Skin. Only skin. Nothing else.

Oh. Blue fire. Was she naked? In the scarce lighting he made out the shape of her locket, then rounded shoulders, and the full curves of her breasts disappearing under the sheets. Oh yes. Yes she was. And he was too, apparently, which made everything worse. Or better. He couldn’t really tell.

“Agatha…” he whispered, paralyzed by surprise and sensation at the same time, and as an answer, she moved her hands to caress his face, and pressed two fingers to his lips as if to silence him.

“Kiss me.”

The words went right through his heart and down his spine like electricity, and then she laced her fingers on the back of his neck and drew him closer and their lips met – and everything else but them disappeared, shattered by the deafening, boiling heat that exploded under his skin. Damn, he could die of this and it’d be the perfect way to go. Her taste was familiar, warm and lingering like butter and spices, the smell of her sweat was familiar and her quickening breath and her heart racing like mad against his, but her hands lacing on his back and exploring his skin, her bare legs brushing his sides, the way all of her body seemed to surrender and melt under him and that delightful perfection of just skin against skin and nothing else – all of this was new and wonderful and maddening. His hands danced on her skin on their own accord, following her shivers along the lines of her face, of her shoulders to finally cup her breasts, and his kisses moved to taste the tender skin of her neck, lips soon finding an earlobe, teeth eagerly following suite. She almost jumped at that and her fingers sank hard into his shoulders, nails scraping sensitive skin, drawing a moan out of him as he shuddered with something that wasn’t exactly pain or pleasure, but more of a wild, surprising mix of both, that somehow brought to his mind that exhilarating feeling of being in her power that jolted him when she’d strapped him to the slab before the Si Vales Valeo. Definitely uncharted territory for him. But definitely interesting. 

“Did I hurt you?” she said breathlessly, a trace of worry in her voice and in her fingers now barely touching him. Gil chuckled on her skin, unsure himself where the answer would be. 

“Do that again,” he whispered, and he could swear she purred as her fingers dug delightfully in his back again, and his hands slid down to the gorgeous work of art that was her butt. She sighed as he squeezed, pressing her up tighter to him, but he gasped and flushed when in a smooth motion she locked her legs around his waist to hold him even closer, closer than they’d ever been before. The “stop messing around” message couldn’t be any clearer. 

He swallowed and lifted to look at her. As much as he’d longed for that very moment, now that it had finally come he felt an odd anxiety creeping in, worried he might disappoint her or even worse, hurt her. After all, although he did know a thing or two about what he was doing, his reputation in Paris was mostly the result of putting on a good act and letting gossip do its job. But even in the twilight, seeing her like that, flushed and breathless, the hint of a dreamy smile on her lips – all of this melted his doubts away. Sure, it was hardly going to be perfect, but he was determined to make it as best as it could be. There would be plenty of other times for them to learn and make it better.

“You want to?” he whispered, running a thumb along her lips. She kissed it softly and shivered as the other hand lightly tickled at the inside of her thigh.

“You know I do,” she replied, fingers traveling up and down his back. “Just love me now.”

Gil bit his lip and leaned to kiss her full on the mouth once more. Hearing her say it like that, half pleading and half commanding, made his whole body tingle. The tension in her muscles, though, made him pause: Agatha was not a thin woman, but he was certainly much heavier than her and it occurred to him that the position wasn’t probably going to be very comfortable. He slipped his arms under her, wrapping one around her shoulders and the other around her waist, and carefully he picked her up. She seemed to understand what he was going for and tightened her legs around his hips for balance, as he lifted until he was sitting up on the bed, with her in his lap. She also apparently liked the idea, judging from the smile she gave him before drawing him close for another kiss. He looped an arm around her neck, barely registering the cold contact of her locket briefly brushing his skin, then closed his free hand on her hips to lift her a little, adjusting their position… but before he tried anything, she shuddered and jerked away from the kiss with a startled cry.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gil said, looking for her eyes in the twilight as she still shook in his arms. “Agatha? Are you alright?”

He only had one moment to look at her eyes, now wide and frightened, her breath hitching as if she were unable to speak. Then he saw her change, and he couldn’t tell what changed exactly at first, but her eyes suddenly looked more surprised than frightened. A smile formed on her lips, but it was a smile he didn’t recognize, a smile that looked forced, wrong somehow, as if…

Gil froze. Her locket. He’d felt it under his arm just a moment before.

Her locket was gone.

_That was not Agatha._

With a gasp he blocked her arms and threw them behind her back just before she reached for his throat, instincts painfully shifting gears to survival, but even trapped as she was, her smirk, that cold, haughty smirk he’d never want to see on that face, did not fade.

“Too late,” she said.

Gil felt sweat freezing on his brow at a noise behind his back, and suddenly he knew perfectly well what was going to happen. He barely had the time to glance over his shoulder and even in the twilight, he thought he’d caught a flash of red hair, before two hands he couldn’t block or flee from closed around his throat and clenched into an iron grip and he couldn’t breathe anymore and everything went black and…

A sharp stab of pain on the back of his neck scattered white sparks behind his eyes and drew a muttered curse out of him. He was breathing again. Through considerable effort, he raised a hand to rub at the aching, throbbing spot behind his head, and found what felt like wood underneath. His senses gradually came back to him, all of his body shaking and covered in sweat, his heart actively trying to shatter his ribcage. He was still alive.

He was awake.

As he managed to get his stinging eyes open, he recognized the window in the ceiling in that same room in Castle Heterodyne, still drowned in the twilight. He was still in that cold bed, Agatha by his side, fully dressed and stirring in her sleep, Tarvek sleeping behind her. He had likely hit his head on the wooden headboard while turning around in his sleep a tad too violently. It had just been a dream. And a nightmare. Damn.

He almost jumped at the light touch of Agatha’s fingers on his shoulder.

“Hey… are you alright?” she whispered in a sleepy voice, lifting slightly. He sat up, doing his best not to look at her.

“I’m fine, just… banged my head on that thing. Sorry I woke you up.”

He got up, and still carefully avoiding turning to face her, he went to the bathroom. He washed his face and neck, and the swelling lump under his hair, relishing the stinging cold touch of water turning his skin into goose bumps. Cold was good, cold was perfect. Cold wrecked his nerves and numbed the pain and all other sensations, and this was exactly what he wanted right now.

He gritted his teeth catching the reflection of his own gaze in the old, stained mirror above the sink. All just a dream, and he even had to be grateful. Although it was no wonder, really… he almost heard his father’s voice in his head nagging at him. Well, if he’d been thinking with his brain instead of with his groin he could’ve realized it was a dream before it all turned into one of his worst nightmares. It had been one of the most realistic dreams he’d ever had, but it wasn’t like things actually made much sense. Clever, strong, capable – but still not good enough to fight what was inside his head. Damn. 

He took a long drink of water and left the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible. He threw a wary glance to the bed: Agatha had thrown an arm over her head, apparently back asleep, while Tarvek had snuggled against her back, an arm wrapped around her waist. Gil swallowed. He didn’t really feel like going back to bed, and he could barely bear to look at the other two at the moment, so he dropped on one of the couches, where they’d left their clothes as they prepared for the night. He fumbled through the pockets of his waistcoat, looking for his pocketwatch. It was only half past one in the morning and all of his body was way too much awake for his own good. Damn again. This was going to be a long, long night.

He moved the pile of clothes a bit to make room, and just lay there, looking at Mechanicsburg’s night out of the windows. Far away beyond the towers, through the nightly fog he could see the ominous profile of Castle Wulfenbach looming over the city. Was his father recovering? He knew he was in pretty good hands with Dr. Sun, but not being able to receive any news from the outside world was still worrying. He knew the attack of those Knights of Jove clowns had only been the first. How much time did they have left before someone else took the chance at toppling the Empire? Before the war?

Reluctantly he turned towards the bed. The way Agatha lay there, completely relaxed, and the way Tarvek clung to her made him cringe, but at the same time, there was something oddly tender, bittersweet about it, something he didn’t completely understand yet.

How much time did he have left before facing his nightmares?

That was the entire reason he was there, after all. He was there because he wanted to help Agatha, and wanted her to be happy, and wanted to be a part of that happiness. And because he was perfectly ready to snap her neck in half in case he couldn’t save her. He had no idea if this meant that he loved her, although that would explain why his brain now and then stopped working or simply disconnected from his mouth in her presence. But what did he really know about love, anyway? He almost heard his father’s stern voice again. Novels were usually pretty clear as far as lust was concerned, even graphically, and he’d read his fair share of medical texts and lived in Paris long enough to discern between what was realistic and what was not. Love was much more fuzzily defined and usually had a lot to do with heroic deeds and selflessness. Everything very clean and pure, very dramatic and focused, as if love erased anything else from people’s lives. 

Gil frowned. There was not much really clean and pure about that whole situation. No matter how much he cared about Agatha, he couldn’t forget about the danger hiding inside her, behind the locket – not even in his dreams. Just as he couldn’t forget about the toad currently sharing that bed with her. Not that he thought that Tarvek didn’t care about her. He knew perfectly well he cared about her, and not as just a pawn in his plans or a girl he liked. That was precisely part of the problem. He knew him well enough to realize that Tarvek had no love for Lucrezia, and that he really wanted to help Agatha get rid of her. But just like him, Tarvek did not begin and end with his feelings for Agatha. He surely had his own agenda, and Gil could not be sure if in the end he was going to be loyal to anyone other than himself. One thing he knew for sure though: he’d be damned if he was going to let him mess with Agatha’s head to try and erase Lucrezia all by himself.

If he really had to kill her in the end, would Tarvek let him?

If he really had to kill her… if he had to kill them  _both_ … what would his dreams become?

Gil rubbed his arms in a shiver, and dragged his waistcoat over him as an improvised cover. He sighed. Dead tired, and starting to feel cold, but still not sleepy at all. The idea still made him queasy, but returning to the bed was tempting. He glanced there again longingly, and he saw Agatha curtly turn around under the covers. She huffed and opened her eyes to look at him, and he realized that probably she’d been awake all along. He quickly averted his eyes, but he knew it was already too late to pretend he was sleeping. Damn. For about the millionth time, damn.

“Gil… what’s wrong?”

He sighed and turned to look back at her. Even in the twilight, seeing the puzzled worry on her face was painful. He swallowed. He couldn’t talk to her, he couldn’t tell her what was wrong, he couldn’t even begin to describe it. And he was never any good at talking to her about anything that mattered in the first place. He rubbed his eyes.

“Nothing, just… changing position for a bit.”

Even in a whisper, his voice sounded awfully weak. Agatha furrowed her brow.

“You’ll be cold there,” she said, and brushed the empty part of the bed with her hand. “Come here.”

Gil’s heart gave a little jolt at that tone. Half pleading and half commanding, just like in his dream. Just like Agatha. He knew perfectly well that no matter how much it hurt, he would do just that. He got up and slid back under the covers, beside her, and she pulled at his shoulders to draw him close, not being able to move much because of Tarvek’s embrace. Gil shivered as she ran her fingers through his hair, relishing her familiar, warm contact, and returned the embrace, caressing her head as she relaxed against him.

He could feel Tarvek’s deep, warm breath on his hand, on the back of Agatha’s head. And as he closed his eyes, he realized that in those moments, in the silent truce of that precious night, he didn’t really care.


	4. Agatha's night

Agatha woke up in the deep of the night with the odd feeling that she’d forgotten something important. She rubbed her stinging eyes. Judging from the scarce, silvery light coming from behind her, the warmth snuggled up against her back was likely Gil’s, but her hands felt cold, and it took her a moment to realize that Tarvek was missing. Maybe he’d simply got up to go to the bathroom and this had woken her up. As her sleepy eyes got used to the twilight, though, she noticed something she didn’t expect. She lifted slightly.

Someone else was there. She couldn’t make out much without her glasses, but someone was sitting still at the edge of the bed. Watching. And she knew who that was.

“Tarvek?”

The figure did not move at first, and Agatha felt her throat ache. What did that mean, what was happening? Was he going to pretend he hadn’t heard her? And why hadn’t he come back to bed already, why was he just sitting there, watching?

Maybe he just wanted to leave? It was not like she could make him stay, after all, if he didn’t want to. She’d give anything to just be able to see his face.

After what looked like an eternity, but actually just took the time of a few breaths, he got up and slid back beside her, under the covers.

“I’m here,” he said. “I was thirsty.”

Agatha gladly snuggled up to him as soon as she could, and threw an arm around his neck to sink her fingers in his hair. She breathed hard in his scent, her heart pounding loud. She couldn’t look at him, she couldn’t try to read him, to understand what he was really going through a few moments before. But he’d come back to her, and this had to suffice for the moment. Her worry sweetened as she melted against that warm, nimble, beautiful body. Her fingertips tingled, but she had no strength left to move them out of his hair. Long, flowing locks like silk, tangled through her fingers. She couldn’t see, but she could imagine their colour – red, vibrant, shining like cherries. She wondered what it would be like to forget about anything else and just touch him. Run her hands from his hair down his back, then up to his chest and on the arms now holding her. Learn the wiry pattern of his muscles, make him dream for a while. Tarvek had such beautiful skin, smooth and delicate, unusual for a man. She wondered what he would feel, if he would like that. What he would think of her. She wondered if he thought about touching her just as she did. What would those long, elegant hands feel like under her clothes. She wondered if he was really going to leave her just a moment before.

“I thought you were leaving,” she mumbled, slowly drifting. She couldn’t feel her own fingers anymore, but she knew they were still lost in Tarvek’s hair. His hands tentatively caressed her head. Oddly cold hands. She shivered, but not from the cold.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he whispered. “Sleep now.”

Warmth pooled in her chest at his words. Of course she didn’t want him to leave, why should she? She couldn’t trust him, but this did not make her any less want him. She wanted to say something, but she only managed a whimper. She wanted to do something, but she couldn’t move anymore. She wanted him to understand.

The last thing she thought before finally surrendering to exhaustion was that she wanted something, but she had no name for it.

She woke up in what felt to her like but a heartbeat, startled by a sudden noise, her heart pounding in her throat. Opening her eyes, she saw Gil beside her in the silvery twilight coming from the windows, shaking and hissing as if in pain. Worried, she lifted slightly to touch his shoulder, and he jolted at that.

“Hey… are you alright?” she asked, and saw him rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m fine, just… banged my head on that thing,” he said, gesturing to the headboard. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Gil got up and headed for the bathroom, and Agatha dropped down again on the bed, her heart still pounding loud from the abrupt awakening. She had no idea how much time had passed since she’d fallen asleep, but it was apparently enough for her to change position. She could feel the warmth of Tarvek’s chest snuggled up against her back, his breath on her neck, one arm around her waist, but as much as she welcomed that embrace, for some reason she couldn’t relax: her heart still beat loud and jolted to any little noise – the owls outside, the creaking of furniture settling, the running water from the bathroom. She threw an arm over her head, breathing deeply: even the scarce lighting coming from the city outside tore at her senses, keeping her awake. The barely perceptible creaking of the bathroom door startled her once more, and her tension turned to worry when Gil didn’t come back to bed. She swallowed as she heard him fumble with clothing, not daring to open her eyes yet. Maybe he was just looking for his watch. Maybe he was just cold and wanted to put his shirt on for sleeping. Maybe he wanted to write something down, or just to look out the window for a while. Maybe she didn’t really have to worry again. Or maybe…

She let out a frustrated huff and finally opened her eyes, turning to face him. Gil had lain down on one of the couches under the windows. She could see him surprisingly well in the silvery twilight coming from the windows. She didn’t like what she saw in his eyes, deep and sullen, that soon escaped hers.

“Gil… what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, just looking at her. Looking at her with those same eyes. Why couldn’t he talk, what was he hiding from her? She had learnt a thing or two on how to read Tarvek, but reading Gil was surprisingly harder.

“Nothing, just… changing position for a bit.”

Agatha frowned. It wasn’t all of it, and they both knew it. Gil couldn’t really trust her, just like her. She swallowed as a mix of worry and frustration rose in her throat. She couldn’t really blame him if he didn’t want to come back to bed, after all she knew she was asking both men a lot that night. But she had to try.

“You’ll be cold there,” she said, brushing a hand over the empty side of the bed. The sheets still held his warmth, his smell. “Come here.”

Relief washed over her as he got up and came back to bed. Agatha couldn’t move much without risking to wake up Tarvek, so she threw her arms at Gil, pulling at his shoulders to draw him close. She didn’t want to look so needy, but she couldn’t really help it this time. She laced her fingers on the back of his neck, running them through his hair, finally relaxing as he held her and returned her caress. Snuggling her face between his neck and his shoulder, in that space that looked like it had been made just for her, she breathed the smell of his body, that rough, bittersweet smell of sweat and burnt oil. She swallowed, her skin softly tingling as her forces melted away. She wondered what it would be like to just forget about anything else and kiss him, just like she wanted to do earlier that night, before going to bed. It would be easy. She’d only have to slide her fingers from the back of Gil’s neck to his chin, tip his face slightly towards her and she could kiss him. Tenderly at first, then asking for more, tasting him, sliding her hands down to caress that strong, gorgeous body pressing up against her. She wondered if he would kiss her back, if he still tasted the same as that faraway, wild day on Castle Wulfenbach. She wondered how those rough, strong, calloused hands would feel like under her clothes. She wondered if Tarvek would wake up. She wondered what both would think of her.

She didn’t like that thought.

Agatha shivered at the warmth pooling in her chest, melting down in her belly. Warmth coming from Gil’s chest pressed against her breasts, and from Tarvek’s against her back, and from their arms around her, their legs brushing hers. Their breath on her skin, their heartbeat and their smell blending together. She wanted them both to understand. She wanted to explain something for which she had no words, and no force left to try. She wanted to forget about anything else and just surrender. She wanted to trust, and be trusted. She wanted the moon, she wanted something she couldn’t have and wasn’t sure she even understood. She wanted something. And for one moment, just when she was finally surrendering and losing touch with reality, she accepted what that was.

She wanted them.

Through the oblivion that had swallowed her, the warmth of bodies and arms and breathings surrounded her again, but this time it felt closer, like something had changed, although she couldn’t exactly point out what. The light touch of fingers on her face, familiar, rough, calloused fingers, from her cheekbone and gently sliding down to her chin, surprised her, drawing a shiver under her skin. She opened her eyes to find the room still flooded with darkness, but she made out the profile of Gil beside her, that had lifted on an elbow. She couldn’t see him as well as she wanted to, since the scarce lighting in the room came from behind him, but she knew he was looking at her, smiling, his fingers still tracing the shape of her jaw. Puzzled, she smiled back.

“What…” she whispered, but he brushed her lips with a finger to interrupt her words. Then he leaned down on her, his hair caressing her face, and her skin ran with goose bumps at his warm breath on her ear.

“Shh… close your eyes.”

Her breath caught up in her throat at those barely audible words, her heart suddenly pounding loud in her chest as if it understood much better than her what they meant. Then Gil’s lips softly brushed her cheekbone, and she couldn’t help but obeying that command, letting out a little gasp that was part amazement, part shock and part pure, simple, wild joy. His kisses moved down to her jaw, then his fingers gently pushed at her chin, turning her face slightly, and his lips found hers. She hummed as they kissed, tenderly at first, then quickly going deeper and hungrier, exactly like she wanted, all of her body now tingling as if ready to burst into flames in his arms. She gathered enough force to loop her arms around his neck to draw him closer: she desperately wanted to move, to feel more of him, but she still had Tarvek’s arm around her waist and she was terrified that he could wake up if she moved too much – yet at the same time she felt all of her body ringing with joy. Red fire, how she needed this, exactly this, just closing her eyes and forgetting about everything else, just feeling for once, just being a woman. Just being Agatha.

That glorious, burning feeling quickly froze to a sharp stab of guilt in her chest when Tarvek shifted behind her. She stiffened, pulling away from the kiss, eyes still shut tight because she didn’t dare to look at either of them in that moment. But the gentle touch of Tarvek’s hands, moving from her waist up her back, sinking through her hair to caress her, took her breath away. She expected anything but this. She still didn’t dare open her eyes as his breath brushed her neck, his nimble fingers moving her hair away to expose her skin.

“Shh… it’s alright,” he whispered on her ear. “Don’t stop.”

Her heart jumped up in her throat at those words, and as Tarvek softly kissed her neck, just below her ear, she couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure. Then Gil tilted her face towards him again, and for a moment she thought shivers were going to break her body in half.

“Oh god, yes,” she sighed on Gil’s lips just before they met hers again, and he kissed her even more passionately than before, while Tarvek planted kisses on her neck, nibbling and running his tongue over the spots he discovered she enjoyed the most. She whined in frustration when Gil’s mouth left hers, kisses moving down on her chin and in the hollow of her throat and over her cleavage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, but lighter, slender fingers closed on her jaw, gently turning her head, the body behind her shifted and new, different lips found hers. It took her a moment to realize that she was kissing Tarvek now, and her breath caught up painfully in her throat, as if she was about to burst out crying, or laughing, or screaming, as if this was simply too much, too devastatingly perfect for her to bear. Shaking and breathless between them, she managed to close a hand on the back of Gil’s neck and the other on Tarvek’s, keeping them both close. This was perfect, this was how it should be: no room for fear and worries, no room for games, just skins and hands and mouths, just those two bodies pressing tight against her and that growing need pulsing down between her legs. Just her and her men. She had never thought this was possible, she hadn’t even dared hope for it or fantasize about it. She had always thought that accepting one of them would surely mean losing the other… not that this would just make both men want her more.

“What are we doing?” she whispered on Tarvek’s lips, wiggling between them to help them take off her shirt. She felt Gil chuckle softly on her chest as his fingers tugged at the laces of her corset.

“I don’t have a clue,” Gil said. “Looks like it’s working though.”

Oh, it was working, for that matter. A lot. She was pretty sure she had never felt this much aroused in her entire life, not even during her awkward experiments on her own. Sure, she had learnt a thing or two on how her body worked, but fantasy was one thing. Being there, held between them, feeling so desired and so loved at the same time – this was a whole new world. She reached to help Gil with the laces, but Tarvek moved her hands away.

“No… let us worry about that. You just relax,” he said, leaning to kiss her softly on the lips again, his hands now in turn helping Gil’s. “It’s so beautiful… seeing you like this, like you are right now. You look so happy.”

Agatha smiled, her eyes fogging up.

“I am… I’m so happy I can’t almost believe this. And you… are you happy here, with me? Is this really what you want?”

As the corset shifted around her body, she wrapped her fingers under Gil’s chin to gently pull his face up: she needed to look at them both, to see in their eyes the same maddening joy that filled her. But their eyes eluded hers to exchange a quick glance instead, a glance she couldn’t read. Why that hesitation?

The smile on Gil’s lips reassured her, and she shivered as his fingers caressed her face, her neck, then slid down to brush her cleavage, as if asking for her permission.

“As long as this is what you want…” he said, and a new shiver bloomed under her skin as Tarvek’s fingers brushed her lips.

“…does it really matter?” Tarvek added with a smile.

Agatha swallowed as the soothing warmth that had filled her died down, replaced by a sudden pang of cold. Some part of her brain tried to draw her attention on how odd it was that they’d finished each other’s sentence, but that thought quickly sank under the meaning of what she’d heard. Something was amiss, and whatever that was, she was sure she didn’t like it.

“But… what do you mean? Of course it matters. This is not about me, it’s about us. The three of us. And I can’t… I can’t have this if it’s not what you want too.”

She furrowed her brow, moving her glance from one to the other and back again, desperately trying to read their expressions and painfully failing. But she saw their smiles falter and fade, and their eyes evade her again, much too clearly.

The cold turned into a piercing pain in her chest and her eyes fogged up at a completely different wave of emotion - from bliss to fear, from love to betrayal. Why couldn’t they just talk, what were they hiding from her? She couldn’t even trust them to tell her what they really wanted, not even then, in her bed, in their arms, in that moment when all doubts and lies should be put aside.

There it was. Trust. That was amiss.

No.

Agatha wiggled out of their embrace and sprang to sit up. She only distantly noticed neither man had tried to hold her back. She gathered her knees to her chest, closing her partially unlaced corset.

“No… no, this isn’t working. I can’t do this… this is not what you want. You don’t really want to…” she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of Zola, still somewhere out there, thinking of how realizing her enemy cared about Gil, and he did care about her somehow, had made her blood boil, “to share me any more than I’d want to share you two with someone else. You don’t nearly trust each other enough for this, and… we don’t trust each other enough in the first place, for that matter. This is not going to work… not now, not like this, not while there is so much at stake.”

She hid her face in her hands at the deep silence that followed, and a sudden, cold breeze surprised her, turning her skin into goose bumps. She raised her head, and saw that the wind was coming from a small, open window in the wall to her right that wasn’t supposed to be there. An all too familiar window.

She held her breath as she looked around. In the twilight, she recognized the desk cluttered with half-finished projects, she recognized the numbers and creatures carved on the ceiling beams and her little flyer model. She recognized the small bed she was sitting on - and she noticed that she was alone. Alone once more.

In her bedroom in the attic in Beetleburg.

Slowly she shook her head, a smirk forming on her lips, a sour taste curdling in her throat. Now she could see it. Now she knew.

“I’m dreaming, ain’t I?”

With a start she woke up, this time for real, to the grey light of the approaching dawn and the welcome warmth of arms around her. Reluctantly, she looked at the two slumbering men sharing her bed, and her breath caught up in her throat. Tarvek’s red hair burned a dark shade of rust through that dull light, while Gil’s golden chestnut turned to bitter chocolate. Tenderly she caressed them both, moving Gil’s wild hair away from his eyes, tracing the line of Tarvek’s jaw, and she shivered as they huddled tighter to her in response.

She smiled despite herself and wrapped her hands on the arms holding her, savoring their warmth, their closeness. So this was the real reason why she couldn’t make a choice, wasn’t it? There was no choice at all, that was the point, and she couldn’t hide this truth from herself anymore. She wanted them both, as partners, as consorts, as lovers. She wanted them both, in her life, by her side, and she couldn’t have either. This wasn’t going to end with her having a big fancy party and dancing with all the boys. She had no idea if this could change, if some day, when things would calm down and there would be no need for masks, lies and games anymore, a new Agatha could explain her feelings to a new Gilgamesh and a new Tarvek and actually be understood. She had no idea if some day the three of them could cast their fears and jealousy aside and trust each other enough to make a shared relationship work. But she knew that right there and then, they had become so close that any movement, any attempt to alter that delicate balance would risk destroying everything.

She knew that right there and then, what existed between the three of them, whatever that was, could very well be everything they could ever have.

She sighed. Outside, the feeble light of the fading night shifted to golden as the sun took a first peek over the mountains. Soon she’d hear the muffled bell strikes from the cathedral and a new day would begin, with its burden of work, responsibilities, masks and fears. Soon she would have to wake them up.

But not yet. For now, she just wanted to lie there between them and watch them sleep, and imagine that some day that truce would really turn into peace.


End file.
